


blush

by greymadder (whatisausername)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Deepthroating, Loud Sex, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Unresolved Romantic Tension, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 16:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5750503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatisausername/pseuds/greymadder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa Tooru does not want to be a bad person. He isn’t really malicious – competitive, definitely, and perhaps cursed with a mean streak and equipped with confidence that doesn’t run as deeply as he makes it seem. His apparent inflated ego is less due to a perceived sense of superiority and far more likely the fault of his crippling fear of inferiority. </p><p>There are dark places in his mind that he doesn’t – can’t – go, where his fears smother him like smoke and break down in moments the walls he’d spent years building up.   </p><p>Oikawa Tooru is lucky to have a friend like Iwaizumi Hajime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blush

**Author's Note:**

> well, i uploaded this a while ago, but I forgot to add it to the Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru tag...now I'm a little glad that I didn't because I spent a little bit turning that ~2k piece of subpar writing into a slightly better ~8k monstrosity with better smut.
> 
> i apologize for any errors in advanced, as this story is unbeta'd.

Oikawa Tooru does not want to be a bad person. He isn’t _really_ malicious – competitive, definitely, and perhaps cursed with a mean streak and equipped with confidence that doesn’t run as deeply as he makes it seem. His apparent inflated ego is less due to a perceived sense of superiority and far more likely the fault of his crippling fear of inferiority.

Oikawa Tooru doesn’t want to come second, because to come second means to fall short—and falling short means breaking.

He’d come close to breaking once before, something he remembers grimly whenever he slips the white knee brace up his leg and fits it into place.

Oikawa Tooru would never be broken, but there are times he feels damn close.

There are dark places in his mind that he doesn’t – can’t – go, where his fears smother him like smoke and break down in moments the walls he’d spent years building up.  

And of course it’s in this dismal place that he currently finds himself.

He slogs through practice, speaking to no one aside from the necessities and a simple ‘good practice, everyone,’ before throwing his bag over his shoulder and leaving as fast as he possibly could. He gives Hajime some crappy excuse about having to take Takeru to volleyball camp, but he doesn’t stick around to see the disbelief that creeps into his best friend’s features.

The second he walks through the door, Takeru comes bouncing up to him, a DS in one hand as he tugs on Tooru’s sweatpants with the other, asking him if he’ll finally teach him to jump serve.

Tooru frowns—that's probably something he’d promised Takeru, despite having no real intention of actually doing so (not anytime soon, at least). The dishonesty wouldn’t have bothered him normally, but today it only twisted the knife a little further.

“Next time, Takeru.  I have to study for a big test.” He replies kindly, suppressing the urge to cringe at how fake the honey-sweet smile plastered across his face is, or how terrible his own voice sounds ringing back in his ears. He gently shakes Takeru off his leg. “—Also, get your mom to take you to practice today, okay?”

Takeru looks a bit disappointed but nonetheless nods and returns to his game as he pads back to his room.  

Sighing deeply, Tooru slips off his own shoes and sets them at the edge of the carpet, before making his way silently up the stairs. When he pushes through the door, he lets his things fall carelessly against the ground with a heavy _thunk_ and makes a beeline for his bed. Snatching a pillow and blanket from the mess of unmade sheets adorning his mattress, he tosses them onto the window seat and curls up, clutching his phone in his hands as he stares ruefully out his window at the grey, overcast sky above him.

He isn’t really a bad person is he?

His phone buzzes.

_iwa-chan: i'll take that as a no_

Tooru taps the screen before scrolling up to see the message that had come before it.

_iwa-chan: do you wanna come over?_

He'd received the text half an hour ago. Tooru's face softens at that, but it lasts only as long as it takes for him to be struck with a wave of guilt. He feels even worse for not responding when his best friend had been worrying about him. He taps out his reply quickly and sends it with a grimace tugging on his features.

_oikawa: no thanks, iwa-chan. gotta study :)_

The notification for an unread message still hasn't gone away, so Tooru swipes back to his inbox.

_mattsun: r u okay :(_

Tooru smiles, but he doesn't respond this time, instead placing his phone against his chest and letting his head fall against the pillow. His eyes flick out the window and on the sky above. It's cloudy and grey and bleak, but easy enough to look at. Tooru couldn't stomach sunshine right now—he's glad for it.

His phone buzzes again, but he can feel the weight of exhaustion in his lids. Tooru is  _tired_ , and sleep sounds more than tempting as he happily ignores his phone. His head lolls back, cheek sinking into the plush material of the pillow. It's only by the grace of a pounding headache that Tooru falls asleep easily.

\-----

The opening and closing of the front door startles Tooru from his sleep. Eyelids fluttering open, he yawns into his pillow and pats himself down in search of his phone. He can't have been asleep for long. It had been evening when he'd come in, but the sky wasn't fully dark, yet.

Finding his phone, he flips it up and squints at the screen. He was right - he'd barely been asleep for twenty minutes. As he swipes to unlock the screen he sees the notifications from a variety of different social media popping up, as well as one missed call. He doesn’t care much—he places his phone back down and pushes himself up from his spot by the window to go see who was home.

If nothing else, it was something to do.

He comes around to the top of the stairs and he takes the first few down, but pauses when he sees a familiar figure bent down and removing his shoes in the hallway.

“Iwa-chan.” Tooru cocks his head, but he isn’t really surprised. Rolling off his tongue, the name sounds less like a greeting a more like a statement. Hajime glances up at him, placing his shoes on the hardwood, along the edge of the carpet. He doesn’t say anything, but he does come up the stairs, passing Tooru and moving towards his room.  

When they’re inside, Tooru closes the door behind them as Hajime sits down against his bed, letting his backpack fall to the floor beside it carelessly. Tooru moves back to his spot in the window, pulling his knees up close. He lets his chin fall against them, a lie clinging to the tip of his tongue instinctively.

“Does Iwa-chan need help studying again? I know I’m incredibly smart, but you can’t always rely on me like this.” He chimes, forcing the corners of his lips to curl upward into a smile. There’s a snort from Hajime, who looks off to the side with something like disbelief written across his features. It’s refreshing, Tooru thinks fleetingly, and suddenly his heart is beating faster when those eyes turn back to him, and Hajime’s lifting off the bed.

Tooru swallows hard, already leaning back when his best friend moves in next to him. It’s almost magnetic, the way they’re suddenly on each other, arms moving as they meet each other halfway. Hajime’s mouth is hard and warm and stifling, and Tooru wants more of it. He’s already moaning into the kiss when those strong, solid arms slide around him, holding him tight and letting comfort seep deep into his bones. It feels better than anything else has all day, and greedily he drags it closer.

Their mouths work together hotly, hands roaming and bodies shifting until Tooru’s horizontal and Hajime’s hovering over him, exhaling sharply as the other boy mouths his way up the tan column up his neck. His face is flushed red as he leans up and away from Tooru’s hot mouth, having the decency to pull the blinds down. There’s a light snort from Tooru at that—he’d forgotten.

“Are they here? Takeru and—“ Tooru asks, when he stops for a second to murmur against the other boy’s skin.

“Gone. I saw her leaving with him when I was walking over.” Hajime responded, looking down at Tooru with an unreadable expression. There was something glistening in Hajime’s eyes, and Tooru's quickly dragging him down once more, wanting to snuff it out. He didn’t want to think anymore, not about anything.

As his lips pressed kisses all across Hajime’s mouth and jaw, they suddenly stuttered for a moment. His mouth went dry, tongue feeling heavy in his mouth as he realized he wasn’t really feeling it. The other boy’s hands were burning hot on his skin, but Tooru was sweating cold and it _hurt._

His mind starts to race, and for a moment Tooru presses on, his hands shaking as he continues to toy with the hem of the other boy’s sweatshirt.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want it—he did. He would love to get fucked by Hajime, would love to be wordlessly bent over the nearest surface and have his hair pulled and maybe even ride the other boy hard for a while and leave hickeys decorating his chest—

But suddenly in place of heated desire there was icy fear curling in his throat, and the worst of thoughts started to creep into his mind.

What if this was the only thing Hajime had come for? For sex?

It seemed ridiculous to entertain, because his best friend had always known instinctively when he was upset. He’d always come to him, just like this, wiping his tears and telling him hard truths that tore open his wounds and allowed them to heal back again, this time properly. That had been then, and this was now.

Things were so different now.

As time passed their encounters had slowly become less and less _friendly_ and they found themselves more and more _horizontal_ each time. Eventually, it had all exacerbated to the point at which Tooru found himself bent over the clubroom table, muffling his screams around a mouthful of his jacket as Hajime moved behind him, nails curling into pale skin. There were countless other times, in the backs of cars, against walls, bathroom doors, and locker room benches. Each time, sweat would drip and mouths would bite and kiss as they grabbed at one another.

But at the end of the day, they were still _just friends._  

Maybe this was just another encounter, where they’d fuck hard and then dress quickly, moving away from one another when Tooru desperately wanted to be held close—especially today, he _needed_ Hajime’s arms around him. Maybe Hajime just wanted to get laid, because apparently he could show up without saying a word and Tooru would roll over and let him take whatever he wanted. The thought makes indignation curl up in Tooru's stomach. It was a little shameful, wasnt it, how easy he'd become? 

Tooru couldn’t fathom why he was thinking something like that about his best friend, and the fear and shame twist up inside his stomach until he can do nothing else but try and forget. Perhaps letting Hajime take him until he was too incoherent to mentally torture himself is the best thing he can do. Tooru bites back his lip, feeling the wetness gather in the corner of his eyes as he reaches down and swallows back a sob. His fingers trail up Hajime’s inner thigh, and he’s expecting to find him hard already when he presses his palm between the other boy’s legs.

He isn’t.

A hand wraps around Tooru’s wrist, pulling it away and pinning it beside his head. He’s panicking when Hajime starts to pull back, because he knows he’s crying and he doesn’t want the other boy to see. His existence is already embarrassing enough at this point. When he looks up, Hajime’s staring down at him, dark eyes fixed straight ahead with his brow heavy and furrowed above them. He looks a lot of things—but it’s mostly disappointed and hurt. Tooru’s face is burning as he strains against him, trying to escape the humiliation.

“Stop.”

Tooru does, and Hajime rolls off of him.

He’s leaning against the wall, one foot on the floor while the other leg is pulled closer. His elbow rests there, and he’s looking at Tooru silently. After a moment, he looks away, face scrunching.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have—” He begins, and this time it’s Tooru who leans forward, stopping him in his tracks.

“N-no. You didn’t do anything wrong, Iwa-chan.” Tooru wipes his eyes on his sleeves.

Of course, he’d succeeded in making his best friend feel guilty. Tooru was being ridiculous and idiotic—he can’t believe he’d been mentally accusing his best friend of using him like that. He can’t imagine Hajime ever doing that to him—the other boy had proved that much to be true only a second ago.

The rest of his fears, however, start to validate themselves one by one in his mind, and it’s all Tooru can do to not just let the tears flow.

“I just had the worst thought, Iwa-chan—“ He starts, head falling back against the wall, “—I’m just being an idiot and a jerk. You should probably just leave before this gets any more humiliating.”   

Hajime looks at him again, but this time his eyes are fixed into a look of annoyed confusion. It makes Tooru’s heart twist up, and he can’t bear to look at it. He busies himself with sitting up across from Hajime, folding his legs underneath himself.

“What the hell are you talking about? You haven’t done anything.” Hajime’s eyes are still looking at him, and Tooru sucks in a shaky breath.

“It was just dumb—“ Tooru reaches for his cellphone, taking a second to gather himself because _god,_ he felt like a dumbass. He flips through his messages and bring up the one from Hajime. He turns his screen around to show the other boy.

“You asked me to come over, and at the time I thought it was because I’d been upset all day. I mean, I wasn’t really being subtle, but—”

Hajime’s brows raise at that in agreement, and Tooru can’t help but laugh a little.

“—I was just thinking how ever since _this_ —“ the boy motions between the two of them, “—started happening, we talk less, and do, you know, _other things_ more often. . .and I was afraid maybe you’d just wanted to fuck me.”

The last part spills past Tooru's lips and in a moment he’s regretting it because the look on Hajime’s face is clearly offended. When the other boy leans forward, he expects him to yell that Tooru’s an idiot, and that it isn’t right for him to paint Hajime in that light when he’s been nothing but a loyal friend.

Instead, however, Hajime is grabbing his shoulders and shaking him, jostling him just lightly.

“And you would have just let me use you like that?” Hajime blurts, the crease between his eyebrows deepening as Tooru feels the emotional equivalent of a punch to his stomach. His face is flushing once more and tears are coming back, and in a second they’re spilling over his cheeks and Hajime’s fingers are curling harder into his shoulders.

“Please don’t headbutt me, Iwa-chan.” He laughs, trying to wipe away the wetness. Hajime leans forward, wrapping his arms around the other boy and pulling him close. When Tooru feels a kiss being pressed to the top of head his heart almost stops, because it’s so tender a gesture that he can hardly believe its _Hajime_ holding him.

“I came over because you’ve been moping all day. Your face is terrible when you’re like that.” Hajime whispers, and Tooru shoves him away, laughing as the other boy holds him at arm’s length.

“Really, it’s disgusting. Have you seen yourself when you cry? There’s snot everywhere.” The boy’s laughing even when there’s a foot pressed against his chest, kicking him away. Tooru looks happier, at least, and Hajime can’t help but smile a little harder.

“Rude!” Tooru’s crossing his arms indignantly, his face burning red before he suddenly starts wiping at his nose with his sleeve. He’s muttering something beneath his breath, before sitting up and making a beeline for the tissues on his bedside table.

“This is why I came over, you idiot. I can’t stand when you’re like this.” _Because I can’t stand the thought of you locking yourself away, sitting alone and feeling like shit when I can be doing something about it._

Hajime barely dodges the box of tissues that’s hurled at his head.

“My face isn’t that bad when I cry!” Tooru yells, voice muffled behind the mass of tissues he’s got scrunched around his nose. Hajime doesn’t say anything, but he does stand up, swiping up the box of tissues and placing it back on the bedside table. He then kneels by his backpack, rifling through it.

Tooru’s face is relatively dryer when he looks back to Hajime, who pulls something out of his bag before flopping down over Tooru’s bed. He holds the item in his outstretched arm, and the other boy can feel the tears coming back as his mouth scrunches up.

It was a neatly wrapped loaf of milk bread from his favorite shop.

“I got it on the way home from practice, so it’s not warm anymore." Hajime warns, but Tooru doesn’t care. He’s taking it in his hands and placing it off to the side, before kneeling down on the bed beside Hajime.

The other boy regards him with a strange look, and starts to say something but stops when Tooru all but lunges for him, burying his face into the other boy’s sweatshirt. Awkwardly, Hajime coughs once or twice, rubbing the back of his head and scooting up against the pillow. When his hand comes down to pat his best friend’s back, he can feel his shoulders trembling lightly.

“Hey, don’t get so emotional over bread,” Hajime murmurs, and his voice is so low and soft as he combs his fingers soothingly through the mess of brown hair spilled over the front of his sweatshirt. They remain like this for a long while, Tooru’s fingers occasionally tightening their grip.  Hajime says nothing, only holding his best friend close until his shoulders stop quaking, and he’s breathing in deep, steady breaths against the other boy’s front.

Tooru is the first one to break the silence, something unintelligible muttered into Hajime’s sweatshirt.

“Um,” Hajime begins, moving his hand away and watching Tooru’s head spring up. The boy is smirking now, fingers no longer curling in Hajime’s sweatshirt but instead smoothing up his sides. Gulping, Hajime finishes his sentence with a strained “. . .what?”

Suddenly, Tooru’s sliding up Hajime’s front until his face is resting in the spot beside his on the pillow.  

“Do you still want to do it?” Tooru asks, and his voice is low and breathy in Hajime’s ear. The tone is calm and seductive and Hajime doesn’t get just how someone can change between moods so fast, but here he is, arousal stirring in his stomach as Tooru's hands continue to roam.

“No.” Hajime lies, and it’s so obvious because the other boy’s breath is rolling hotly over his neck, teasing fingers trailing down his side and Hajime is leaning into his touch in no time. He’s trying to resist, to not give into the way Tooru is rolling against his front, mouth hovering so close to his skin, trying to pull him in.

It’s working.

God, it’s working and Hajime wishes it wasn’t because he doesn’t know if Tooru really wants it this time.

Hesitantly, Hajime turns until they’re face to face, their noses only an inch apart. Cupping Tooru’s jaw, he leans in closer and the way the other boy’s eyelashes flutter as he lets out a shaky breath make him look like he’d melt in Hajime’s hands. There’s still redness in his cheeks and in his eyes, and he’s probably the most gorgeous thing Hajime’s ever seen when he bites his lip and looks away. Tooru is wondering why he’s not kissing him already—Hajime can tell that much, but he still can’t tell if he should keep going.

“Do you want to?” He asks quietly, his arm slipping beneath the small of the other boy’s back to support him.

Tooru gasps lightly, because the way Hajime is handling him is turning him on and he wants more of it. He wants his best friend’s hands to move further past the hem of his shirt, to grab his waist and hold him down until he’s sinking into the mattress from the force of the other boy’s thrusts. He wants it so bad that he feels dizzy and desperate from only imagining it, and not actually getting it.

From the resistance in Hajime’s eyes, Tooru knows the other boy won’t want to give it to him unless he’s sure, and that fact has his heart throbbing painfully in his chest. He lets a hand trail slowly up, though it’s still faster than he’d wanted because Tooru’s so eager to tear away that pained restraint that Hajime is holding onto so tightly and finally feel the other boy’s lips on his own.

“Hajime,” He starts, lids drooping as his fingers slide to find a grip in short black hair. Suddenly, before Tooru even realizes he’s doing it, he’s turning them until Hajime is pinned underneath him with the other boy’s legs spread over his front and their chests pressed flush together. There’s hardly even a space between their lips, and Hajime’s eyes are almost rolling back from having Tooru burning against his front.

Lips touch for just a moment before Tooru’s pulling back with a small smile when he sees Hajime lift just barely away from the pillow, chasing the fleeting warmth of his best friend’s mouth. It’s cruel, and Tooru knows it—he knows he could probably shatter the restraint and get Hajime inside him just like this without saying another word.

Just like this would be so good, Tooru thought, sucking back a lip as his hips started moving in slow circles over Hajime’s groin. The other boy was twisting his hands in the sheets, his dark brows furrowing above even darker eyes as he tries to restrain himself from thrusting up. _He’s so handsome,_ and Tooru’s almost losing himself in it before he sees the guilt in the other boy’s eyes and his heart is aching again. Before he knows it his hand is sliding down over Hajime’s, pulling it and guiding it up slowly.

Hajime’s breath is catching in his throat, his eyes rapt at the sight of his palm sliding up Tooru’s thigh, over his hips, his waist. His sweatshirt is hiking up, fabric gathering around Hajime’s forearm as his hand finally rests over the other boy’s chest.

“Do you feel that?” Tooru whispers, shoulders falling back as he’s arching further into Hajime’s warm, rough hand. He moves his free hand back to brace against the other boy’s thighs and then his hips are moving again.

Their eyes catch hard on one another’s, and they’re exchanging the most heated, dizzying look they’ve ever seen in one another’s faces. It’s so simple, Tooru’s eyes lidded and piercing while Hajime’s are wide and intense in understanding. Pupils are dilating, and Hajime can feel Tooru’s answer pounding beneath his heated flesh and etched in every ounce of his being.

The boy is still grinding against him and it’s slow, so slow and nothing like the rapid heartbeat Hajime feels beneath his palm. It’s nothing like how fast his own heart is beating; there’s no need to check, because he’s convinced it’s about to pound its way through his chest any moment. Instinctively, his other hand moves up until it’s grabbing Tooru’s waist. Nails are curling possessively into his skin, and Hajime is so hard already underneath him. There’s a sharp inhale from Tooru as he lets his head roll forward to just let the sensation of it sink it.  

Tooru loves it when Hajime has him like this.

 Hajime’s head is turned, like he’s trying in vain to bury his face into Tooru’s pillow to hide how flushed red his cheeks have become. His hand is fitting right in the curve of Tooru’s waist and he can feel the supple muscles pulling each time the boy rocks against him. There’s not even words for how badly he wants Tooru at this point, and if there are he’d never be able to speak them—his mouth had gone dry a while ago.

Hajime’s going crazy but he’s not alone; it’s getting harder for Tooru to keep the pace, and when he pulls off his sweatshirt and tosses it to the side, he doesn’t have to look to know Hajime’s eyes are glued to him. His hand is still warm over Tooru’s chest, and the organ hidden beneath is still beating quickly.

“So badly—“ Tooru’s whispering off his broken thoughts and leaning in, relishing in the way his best friend’s arms wrap around him as he buries his face into the other boy’s chest. He inhales deeply once, and it’s the only thing filling his senses that Tooru wants so desperately— _Hajime._

It’s finally enough and like a rope everything snaps. Everything’s different and Hajime’s not hesitating anymore but instead he’s rolling Tooru over and kissing him. It isn’t teasing or coy to whet an appetite before pulling away; it’s hot and heavy and fulfilling and Tooru’s moaning into his mouth when he feels a tongue slide past his lips.

It’s Tooru’s turn to grasp wildly at the sheets as Hajime’s working his hands down Tooru’s hips. He drags the sweatpants off of Tooru’s hips, shifting off to the side just enough for the other boy to kick them off but he’s never letting him catch his breath.

“Fuck, Iwa—Ha—Hajime—“ Tooru moans, raking his nails up Hajime’s back and taking his sweatshirt with it. He pulls it over Hajime’s head and throws it to the side, and while they’re panting hard to get the air back in their lungs, Tooru bites his lip at the sight of Hajime unbuttoning his jeans. His fingers are working fast and he can tell by the way they’re fumbling and that Hajime wants this just as much as Tooru does.

Hands are shoving the dark denim down low around Hajime’s tanned thighs, and Tooru swallows hard at the sight of his best friend’s cock straining hard against his briefs. His mouth is wet, and Tooru doesn’t even realize the saliva dripping down his chin until he brings his hand up to wipe his lips. His own cock throbs when he realizes he’s not even sure who it belongs to—it doesn’t matter because he’s reaching forward without thinking, wrapping his arms around Hajime’s thighs.

“Wha—“ Hajime breathes as he’s dragged forward until his hands are pressed against the wall behind the bed. Glancing down, he sees Tooru shifting against the pillows until he’s at the perfect angle to tug Hajime’s hips against his face and mouth across his clothed erection.

There’s a throaty moan from Hajime as he feels the wet heat start to spread against his cock through the fabric. Tooru’s mouth feels good against him, but when a hand playfully squeezes his ass before hooking a finger in his briefs and pulling down, Hajime’s glad he doesn’t tease for long. His cock springs free, and Tooru’s hand is on it instantly, stroking the thick length languidly and leaning his head up just enough to give the other boy a heated stare.

Tooru’s eyes are lidded and he’s smirking at him while Hajime’s face is burning up. The boy bites his lip once, teasingly, before looking back down and parting his lips to kiss wetly beneath the head. The stroking doesn’t stop until Tooru’s mouthing down his shaft, lips working to the base before his tongue is dragging up the thick vein on the underside. Then, his lips part and Hajime’s cock is sliding past them, Tooru’s head sinking into the pillows as he pulls the other boy’s groin further against his face. He’s trying to take in as much as he can handle before he’s forced to release, tongue flicking out across his lips to gather the precum that’s spread across them.  

His cock twitches in Tooru’s hand at the sight of his best friend tasting him on his lips, and the boy leans forward to tease beneath the head of his cock with the tip of his tongue. Hajime brings a hand to his mouth and bites down on his knuckle, because he’s so sensitive there and Tooru knows it; he’s had the other boy in his mouth enough times to know just how to make him unravel in his hands and over his tongue.

“Fuck—“ Hajime curses, now clutching the headboard as he watches the mess of brown hair bury itself between his legs. Tooru’s nails are curling into his thighs, dragging as he touches them, feeling the strong muscles that tense up beneath his palms as he starts to bob his head. It’s amazing, the hot, wet pull of his best friend’s mouth around his cock. He can’t resist bucking his hips and Tooru suddenly urges him on, pulling him harder. Hajime’s obeying in a heartbeat.

Breathing steadily through his nose, Tooru relaxes his throat as he’s swallowing Hajime’s cock down. He can hear the other boy moaning above him, and he’s never as vocal as he is when Tooru’s got his lips wrapped around him. He imagines Hajime with eyes rolling back, lips parted as he’s fucking Tooru’s mouth—soon enough it’s a reality, and Hajime’s knuckles are almost white.

Hajime’s thrusting isn’t too brutal, but it has Tooru moaning around his length each time his head is forced back against the pillows and the headboard knocks lightly against the wall. He silently prays that his parents (and everyone else) stay gone long enough for Hajime to fuck his brains out, because he wants to scream and moan and let the bed creak and shake while he does it. He wants Hajime to make Tooru shout his name over and over until he’s coming all over himself and until Hajime is coming hard inside of him and suddenly Tooru’s palming at his own erection.

Fingers slip past the band of his underwear and wrap around his own cock. His stroking is restrained and slow, straining against the pillows and against Hajime’s groin as he’s being stuffed full—he could easily come like this, he thinks. He _likes_ when Hajime doesn’t hold back, likes when he pulls his hair and slides past his lips without thinking because it feels so good. Most of all, he likes the way Hajime will undoubtedly press him back against the sheets and pour every ounce of himself into reciprocating this same amount of attention and making Tooru lose his mind once he’s inside him.

Hajime’s never once taken anything from Tooru without turning it around and giving it back with every fiber of his being. Not ever, not in anything. He loves that about Hajime, and his thighs are shaking as he continues to palm at himself through his underwear.   

Tooru’s getting dizzy and there’s drool dripping down his chin, but he loves the feeling of the other boy’s cock solid and heavy on his tongue. Necessity is the only thing that has Tooru pushing against Hajime’s hips, and instantly Hajime pulls free of Tooru’s mouth. The moment he does, the boy is throwing his head back against the pillow, lips red and puffy and thoroughly fucked as heavy breaths roll over them. Kissing them is the first thought on Hajime’s mind, but he pushes the urge aside just long enough to reach for Tooru’s bedside table.

It takes only a second of rifling through the drawer for Hajime to pull out two foil packets. He drops one into Tooru’s lap, before putting the other between his teeth and scooting down. The second his hands spread the other boy’s legs and he’s settled between them, Hajime reaches up and tears the packet with his teeth. Tooru quickly drags off his underwear then fumbles with the other packet—lube—tearing it open and spreading a good bit of it over his fingers.

It’s cold against his heated skin, but he quickly forgets that when he watches Hajime roll the condom over his cock. It’s already so wet with precum that it slides easily, and Tooru can’t help the small groan in the back of his throat at the thought of getting Hajime’s cock in him.

First, however, he wants to make him wait. Hajime’s hands are on his hips but suddenly Tooru is nudging him back and Hajime is groaning, biting his lips when he watches slicked fingers move between his best friend’s legs.

This is always one of Tooru’s favorite parts.

 His thighs move further apart, and Hajime’s watching him intently. Tooru isn’t nervous at all, never has been nervous about being watched; if anything, it spurs him on, making him want to put on a show that Hajime won’t forget. His fingers slide into himself easily, and Tooru’s playing it up when he throws his head back, because he knows it’ll make Hajime try even harder to pull those same reactions out of when their bodies are finally moving together. Not that Hajime really needs to be convinced to give it to Tooru so well he’s putty in his hands—it’s always like that, just because it’s _Hajime_ who’s giving it to him.

“Mmn—F-fuck. . .” Tooru groans out, his head lolling against his shoulder and his eyes wrenching shut as he opens himself up for the other boy, knees quivering and toes curling as his fingers move knuckle-deep and brush against his prostate. He grinds them in harder, and he’s thinking about Hajime’s cock doing the same—thinking about his rough hands holding him and his piercing eyes and the way his lips part while he’s pushing inside and Tooru knows he could come just like this.

Of course, that would be incredibly disappointing, so he forces his mind back to reality and when he looks forward to his best friend, he almost laughs. Hajime’s eyes are blown wide, his mouth slightly open and he’s looking like he could blow it just watching Tooru writhe and moan around his own fingers. Tooru wants to tease him more, and when Hajime is swallowing around the lump in his throat and crawling over him, Tooru is still giving him a sultry, challenging look.

Even when their noses are a millimeter apart, Hajime only a second away from devouring him, Tooru’s still biting back his lip and smirking as he fingers himself. Hajime's brows are furrowing, and there’s a light growl in his throat as he wraps his hands around Tooru’s wrist.

“That’s enough.” He whispers, before pushing his mouth against Tooru’s roughly, pulling his hand away and settling between the boy’s legs. In a second Tooru is wrapping his arms around eagerly, and that hand is releasing his wrist and instead tangling in his hair, grabbing a handful of it as Tooru succumbs to the full force of the kiss. He’s shuddering underneath Hajime and Hajime has to hold his hips still as he pushes in.

Tooru’s eyes are wide and unfocused, rolling back as he feels the near painful stretch of Hajime’s cockhead pressing through, followed by even more of that thick length. He moans something, but it tumbles over his tongue and into his best friend’s mouth that’s working hotly against his own. When Hajime pulls back for air, he doesn’t come back down instantly like Tooru thought he would, but instead he braces his hands against the mattress on either side of the other boy.

Nails rake along the backs of Hajime’s shoulders and down his biceps as Tooru tries to get a grip when he’s being filled so full. It’s difficult, because his heart is beating so rapidly when he’s staring at Hajime’s face, so sharp and concentrated and full of passion—he wonders briefly if Hajime even knows the way he’s looking at him. Part of him hopes he doesn’t, hopes this is what it looks like when the other is losing himself. Hajime’s so strong and genuine, in every meaning of the word, but Tooru can’t shake the feeling that there are parts of himself that even he’s hiding away.

Tooru wants to be what Hajime loses himself in.

“Ha—please, Hajime—“ The boy gasps out, and he realizes this is one of the first times he’s called him that in bed at a time other than when he’s already coming—and now he’s done it twice and it feels so natural rolling off his tongue. Hajime seems to like it too, because he’s moaning and letting his eyes slip shut as he starts to thrust into that tight heat between Tooru’s legs. It’s wet and it’s perfect and the initial resistance on his cock as he fucks him with short, shallow movements has his pleasured sounds sounding like growls in the back of his throat as he tries to hold them back.

Reaching up and tangling one hand in the short hairs at the nape of Hajime’s neck, Tooru drags him down and presses his other hand against the small of Hajime’s back, pulling him so close that the boy is forced to drop down to one elbow. He’s holding Tooru in his arms and Tooru’s forcing their lips together as he feels Hajime pull out almost completely, before sliding in so deep he whimpers against Hajime’s lips. It’s just like that, the way Tooru wants it—he doesn’t even have to ask, because in the next moment Hajime’s licking up into his mouth and giving it to him again and again.

It doesn’t take long for Hajime’s cock to be slamming into his prostate and sliding deeper with every thrust, and Tooru’s melting against the mattress as he’s getting pounded into it. They’re still kissing but it hardly holds back how vocal Tooru is, and Hajime is trying not to rock the bed so much but it’s impossible to restrain himself when the boy in his arms already looks so fucked out, and they’re being so damn loud—

Of course, feeling guilty about the sound of the headboard repeatedly striking the wall is nearly impossible when the sex is this good.

“Are you—are you sure—ah!—no one’s home?” Tooru moans out when they break away to get the air back in their lungs. Hajime wipes his lips with the back of his free hand, hovering over the other boy as his hips continue to bounce him against the mattress. He doesn’t see why it really matters at this point—Tooru’s already been moaning his head off and the bedframe is creaking so loudly that there’s no other (believeable) excuse for what they were doing up here.

“Yeah.” He grunts, and he can feel Tooru relax, his head lolling off to the side so that his cheek was pressing into the pillow with every thrust. Hajime took advantage of the position to kiss slowly beneath Tooru’s jaw, his tongue licking over the hot, red-flushed skin there. His mouth was gentle as he moved down, painstakingly careful not to leave any marks behind.

When his lips trailed beneath the place where he _knew_ the collar of Tooru’s jersey fell, it was a completely different story. His sucked all along Tooru’s collar bone, shying away from the middle but biting down hard where it met his shoulder. The boy’s legs were wrapping around him harder, pulling him close and urging Hajime on until he’s sucking a deep red hickey into his skin. Tooru throws back his head and _moans_ , and Hajime swears he hears at least a few syllables of his name along with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

When Hajime pulls back, Tooru’s tearing at his sheets, looking up at him with such a desperate look that Hajime knows the other boy’s close. He is too, and that face alone is enough to drag Hajime’s impending orgasm even closer until he’s almost there—but he doesn’t want to be.

Tooru writhing underneath his hands with glassy eyes and a flushed face, moaning out his name over and over is the most beautiful thing Hajime’s ever seen, and he doesn’t want it to end. His skin is so hot everywhere it’s coming into contact with the other boy’s, fingers itching like he’d let them linger too close to a fire for too long. He’s biting his lip and holding out, the dizzying heat of having Tooru wrapped around him drawing him in and Hajime doesn’t know whether he’s addicted or falling for him.

It was dangerous, to think something like that about the person who’s fucking you so well you’re seeing stars. No matter how right it feels having Tooru’s legs wrapped around his waist, or how every time he looks into the other boy’s eyes he sees something similar, glistening right there on the surface, written in every ounce of his expression and the way Tooru just wants him _closer_ —

Tooru’s always looked at him like that.  

Hajime can’t do it, because the shame of getting emotions involved when they’re just _fucking_ —

Tooru’s breath hitches when he feels Hajime grinding down, the movement so slow and deep inside of him, and his nails are digging angry red crescents into tanned shoulder blades. He’s so close to coming, so hard not to when his mind is reeling and his body is writhing around the cock of his best friend. His chest feels so tight, like it’s ready to burst and suddenly Tooru’s wrapping his arms around Hajime’s neck and kissing him all over. The white-hot burn in his stomach suddenly spills over, and he’s coming in a mess against his front.

 “I really like you, Hajime—” Tooru's words spill out as he comes, and Hajime thinks he could scream. It’s sudden and his heart is beating too quickly as he lets his head fall against the other boy’s sweat-slicked shoulder. Tooru’s voice is so breathy and low, but it resonates in his ear and Hajime wishes he hadn’t said anything at all.

He crashes his lips into Tooru’s once more, and his arms are curling tighter around him. He thrusts in once, twice, body sliding against Tooru’s messily before he’s shuddering out his orgasm. It hits him hard, and he doesn’t realize how far he’s got the other boy pressed into the sheets or how tightly his fingers are gripping him until Tooru whimpers into his mouth. He thrusts a few more times, pushing out light little gasps from both of them before Hajime pulls out.

Reluctantly, Hajime loosens his grip and collapses on top of the other boy. As they lay there in silence for a long while, their breathing is beginning to even out until Tooru suddenly shifts beneath Hajime. Instantly his eyes flutter open—he’d been so close to falling asleep wrapped around the other boy.

“Iwa-chan, hand me the tissues.” Tooru mutters, sliding a hand up the other boy’s back. Wordlessly, Hajime rolls off to the side, falling next to the other boy and reaching over to his bedside table. He tugs out a few tissues, but rather than handing them to Tooru, he’s wiping him off and tossing them into the garbage can along with the condom.

When he turns back, the way Tooru’s looking at him has Hajime’s heart leaping into his throat. He tries to swallow it down, ignoring the look as he pulls his jeans back up around his hips. The feeling of an arm sliding around his waist interrupts him as he’s being dragged close until his head is resting in the crook of Tooru’s arm.

He expects Tooru to kiss him, but instead, the boy simply lets his eyes fall shut, a gentle smile tugging on his features.

He’s never looked so calm before, Hajime thinks, trying to ignore the pulse thundering in his ears. His fingers are already brushing through Tooru’s hair, combing it back and away from his face as his eyes start to droop.

“Hey, we can’t. I told my parents I’d be home soon.” Hajime whispers half-heartedly, making no effort to move away from Tooru. In fact he does the opposite, and Tooru seems happy to curl his arms around further, dragging Hajime until his face is pressed into the curve of Tooru's neck and his breath is rolling softly over cooling skin.

Neither of them knows how long they’ve been asleep when the opening and closing of a door shakes them awake, and has their feet hitting the floor in an instant. They’re tossing each other clothes, Tooru forgoing his underwear as he pulls his sweatpants up his hips, and throwing a sweatshirt over his torso. He’s turning to his mirror, pulling the collar of the sweatshirt aside and biting his lip.

There’s a collection of hickeys that are starting to blossom purple against his skin, and he's biting back his lip as his eyes drag over them. When he glances up, he sees Hajime in the reflection, tugging a shirt over his head before walking up behind him and leaning close.

“So rough.” Tooru mutters but he’s not really complaining when two hands snake around his waist.

He’s definitely not complaining when a second later Hajime’s got him pressed against the mirror, his collar tugged down even lower as the boy’s sucking another bruise into his shoulder. Tooru’s moaning quietly into his own hand at the hot, wet suction of the other boy's mouth, and whimpering when Hajime pulls away with a pop.

Tooru’s turning in a second, hands on Hajime’s shoulders and guiding him back toward the bed. His gaze is challenging and cool, but the curve of his lips is pleased.

“Next time you do that, you’d better plan on fucking me afterwards.” He threatens, and Hajime’s falling back against the mattress with Tooru straddling his thighs. It doesn’t go any further than that, but Tooru flops down against his chest, remaining silent for a long while until the tension in the room dissipates back into the calm, soothing warmth of having each other close.

“But really, you should stay the night. Tell them you’re studying.” Tooru comes after a moment, his long fingers sliding through short black hair. He strokes him softly, and Hajime finds himself leaning into the touch as his eyes slide shut. He’s imagining Tooru’s smile again, as well as the words he’d whispered so softly only a while ago.

_I really like you, Hajime._

He takes a deep breath.

“My parents are going to start expecting a lot more out of me academically, with all the ‘studying’ we do.” Hajime laughs, shaking his head lightly. Tooru deflates with a sigh against his chest.

“We could actually study, you know.” He tried weakly.

Hajime’s eyes snap open, and he leans up onto his elbows to shoot the boy a look of cool disbelief.

“Stay for dinner, then?” Tooru offers, snorting lightly as he starts to trace patterns with his fingertips across his best friend’s abdomen. Silence lingers between them for a good while, before Hajime is wrapping his arms around and holding him close.

“I don’t see why not.” He comes quietly, the answer murmured into a mess of brown hair that he’s stroking tenderly, hesitantly. He can feel Tooru smiling against his skin, and he wants to see it for himself, but the boy is so calm and his breathing is so steady. He doesn’t dare to move aside from his fingers finding their way to his pocket.

Hajime tugs out his cell phone, resting his hand on Tooru’s back as he taps out a message.

_spending the night at tooru’s cramming for a test. be back tomorrow._

He lets his phone fall off to the side, choosing instead to wrap his arms around the other boy who is sleeping soundly against his chest. Hajime’s head is sinking back into the pillows as he stares up at the ceiling.

His mind is reeling, and he can’t think about anything other than _Tooru._

“I really like you, too.” He mutters, his voice almost inaudible from the sound of his best friend snoring softly.  

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**Author's Note:**

> ALTERNATE TITLE: "ive got a friend in me" haha... get it.. because they have sex
> 
> ANYWAYS... I really hope you guys enjoyed this. 
> 
> please COMMENT and KUDOS if you like it!! thank you guys so much


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